Fairy God Doctor
by Ghost in the Computer
Summary: I found him in my garden. Maybe he found me. I was so lost. I remember I was crying because I wanted to go to a ball with prince Whatshisname. I now find it so funny that I was sure that my love was someone I didn't know. With him I found I didn't need a prince. I needed a lord, a Time Lord. A Time Lord in my garden in a box in a world that isn't that small. Ten/OC. Cinderella AU.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This was inspired by a piece of art I saw recently on Tumblr and needless to say; I was inspired. Hopefully you'll enjoy this!  
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**_Chapter One: A Box in the Garden_**

It was late.

I could still hear the sound of hoof beats against the dirt road as step-mother and her two awful daughters drove away from the house. God above, I hated them then! To be perfectly honest, I hated the lot of them anyway.

Nothing I ever did was good enough! They'd make me do all the house work when we were wealthy enough to afford a maid and I wouldn't get an ounce of thanks.

_Cinderella, do this! Cinderella do that! _I could still hear them in the back of my mind. It was enough to drive anyone absolutely bonkers!

I missed my old name. Instead they decided that _Cinder_ella was much more amusing. I did not find it amusing. Every time I heard it, it felt like a stab in my heart. I had fallen from grace and my name was a constant reminder.

I felt like crying as I turned away from the door and finally locked it. I slid down the wooden frame and tucked my knees up to my chest. I hated myself, I hated my life, and I hated my papa for marrying that horrible witch.

I shook my head and looked up towards the fire. I could never, ever hate my papa. It wasn't his fault that my awful step-mother was a sly little minx. Poor papa was so old when mama passed, he didn't stand a chance against that vile woman's charm. I had to admit that step-mother did have a charismatic side that she used as she pleased. My papa loved my mama so very much and swore he would never love again. Deep down I knew that he did not love my now greying step-mother, but he was very lonely.

Step-mother was beautiful on the outside, with hair like a ravens wing and eyes bright green. She was ugly on the inside however, and when I was alone and did something to displease her, a horrible and monstrous side of her would appear. I was never without luck, though, she could never take that away from me. Every time, one of her horrid little spawn would come around the corner demanding a new dress or some frivolous trinket and would turn back into her beautiful self.

She was so kind to her own daughters. I always wondered why. The two were absolutely _vile_! No man could stand to be around them, provided that they open their mouths first, for alas! They were as lovely to look at as their mother.

It was unanimously agreed by my mama and papa that I was pretty to look at. Now, I am sure they would have thought otherwise. Once, my hair was long and blonde, but when we fell on hard times, my step-mother shore my beautiful golden locks to sell. I never saw a penny of the money. Besides, now one could not have ever guessed that it was blonde, it was too dirty. My step-sisters took a bath every Saturday, step-mother said I was not allowed, as it 'wasted hot water'. I thought she was mad.

My skin was so pale now, as I was not allowed to go outside more than once a week to buy things from the market. People would stare at me in my dirty old rags and give me looks of pity that hurt me more than they helped I detested the people who would stare at me, or comment on how thin I was. My step-sisters were _fat_, and they ate way too much while I wasted away. I was hungry all the time, I had gotten used to it.

All of my friends turned a blind eye to my step-mother's harsh treatment. They faded away and would call on the house less and less often until they disappeared entirely and I was left utterly alone. I had no hope of finding a suitor who would try to court me, for step-mother would provide no dowry to sweeten the deal. I would die as I had lived, completely alone.

I stood up from against the door. Crying solved nothing and merely left me with a horrible headache. I crossed the kitchen floor and curled up on the ground once more by the fire where I could at least get warm. Every bone in my body hurt from working all day in hopes that I would get to go to the ball, I should have known that my step-mother was playing a cruel joke on me.

I wanted to slap the smirk off of her red lips when she rubbed my face in the fact that I had nothing to wear. In fact, she slapped me. My cheek still hurt.

"What will become of me?" I asked to the fire. It did not respond, naturally, and instead is content to crackles away. Fire is my only friend, but while it warms me, it is cold in its lack of response. I wished that I had someone to talk to, someone to share secrets with, but I was unlucky in that respect.

I missed my mama and my papa. I missed the handsome, kind husband I would never know and the children that I would have. I could see my darling love in my mind when I closed my eyes. He would be tall and perfect, with bright blue eyes and dark hair. He would have a kind smile and a strong jaw. He would kiss me and call me by my real name.

I allowed my eyes to open again. Fantasies only ended up hurting in the long run, but I still let my mind wander to what I would name my children. My husband would be called James, my children, three girls and two boys, would be named Margret, Alice, Beatrice as well as Harry and Will. I liked those names very much. Beatrice and Will were my parents names. Beatrice and Will Schamp.

What an ugly last name for such a noble family; Schamp. I couldn't help but let out a throaty, foreign laugh that sounded almost hysterical. My step-mother's surname was Ragana. It sounded pretty, but a foreign stable boy told me that it was Latvian for witch. It suited her. Freida Ragana. It suited her.

It suited my step-sisters as well; Vera Ragana was a fat, spoiled monster with a mess of red wires she called hair. Agnes Ragana was a bit skinnier, but on her head was scraggly black tangles like her mother. The dresses they chose for the ball that evening were so complicated that it was ridiculous. They were made of purple silk! Purple! Who did they think they were, wearing the King's color? They would never attract the Prince that way, unless he was attracted to shiny things, for there were plenty of those on their giant hoop skirts.

I laughed to myself. The Prince was no cat! They would look like fools. I pictured them spiraling out of control as they danced, falling onto their rears. They would blush a deep red and they would run from the castle to cry in the stables with the horses.

I finished my vision and realized that my cheeks felt a bit wet. I touched the dry skin with the tips of my grubby fingers and realized that I was crying. I was laughing and crying at the same time; I was truly going mad.

I stood up again from the hearth ans ventured out into the garden. I needed some fresh air and the cool night was a relief. My hot, flushed face felt better under the light of the moon. I sat down on my favorite bench and looked up at the stars. Two shone brighter than any other. I knew that those two were my mama and papa.

I felt a pain in my chest. I knelt forward and put my head in my hands, finally giving in to the pain that stung in the back of my throat and in my eyes. I sobbed into my hands, getting my face wet again.

Everything in my life seemed so pointless. I would live and be miserable and then die and face the unknown. I had never been more afraid in my life.

"Why are you crying?" I looked up and almost screamed when I heard the voice of a stranger from right in front of me. My eyes widened after I wiped my tears from them and my mouth hung open in shock. Before me was a large, curious blue box. It had a bright light on top and from behind frosted windows, a warm glow shone.

But stranger still was the man leaning against its doors, the man who asked the question. He was quote tall, and he would have towered over me had I been standing. His hair was not dark and his eyes were not blue. Instead his hair was cropped in an odd fashion and a nice, medium brown. His eyes were brown as his hair, like my step-sister's, but they were also very, very kind. He did have a nice jaw, but what he was wearing was so very, very odd. Instead of the formal attire of a modern gentleman, he had on a navy blue dress shirt, brown slacks, a matching brown jacket with a red tie and odd looking shoes. He looked very out of place in my garden. After a moment of staring at him, I decided to answer his question. It would be rude if I did not, and my parents raised me better than that.

"I'm crying because I can't go to the ball." I confessed and he nodded.

"Ah. Would your name, by any chance, be Cinderella?" I winced at my false name and he seemed to notice.

"My name is _Ella_." I began. "Not Cinderella, not Dirty Ella, not Ratty Ella, just _Ella_." My voice was bitter and the look he gave me was apologetic.

"I'm sorry." He said. "I take it that you didn't choose to add Cinder to the front?" What was with this odd man and his questions! I found that I did not care, he had been kinder to me than anyone else in my time of being a glorified slave.

"No. My step-mother and step-sisters thought it would be amusing to call me that." I replied. He sighed and walked over, sitting down next to me.

"I'm sorry." He said. I didn't shy away from him. This man made me feel safe for some reason.

"Don't be." I replied. "Who are you?" I asked. He smiled a little bit at my question.

"I'm your Fair God Doctor." He said with a small laugh. For the first time in many, many years, I laughed with him and didn't shed a single tear.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Chapter Two: Trust_**

I looked to the sky as the fireworks exploded above our heads. The ball would be beginning soon. I felt an all-to familiar ache in my stomach as I thought of the beautiful women in their expensive gowns waltzing around with their handsome partners. I closed my eyes and saw their faces. I heard the lovely music flat through the air, casting a spell of love and peace. I pictured my step-sisters tripping over their long gowns as they rushed to meet the Prince. I pictured a look of embarrassment on my step-mother's face, one that would grow to anger.

I pictured her true form emerging for all to see. I pictured her being found out. Then, the men would come with fire and swords. They would slice open her scaly chest and rip out her heart that oozed black blood. Then they would set her on fire and I would laugh. I felt a smile coming to my face, but it faded as I opened my eyes.

I was a horrible, sick human being and my papa would be so disappointed. I did not care. I may have thought wicked things, but never once did I act upon them. Despite knowing that, I still felt a bit ill and excited as I pictured my step-mother's icy cold blood wash over my hands.

I looked to the Doctor, who was eying me carefully and I folded my hands, a light blush coming to my face at being caught day-dreaming. I took a better look at the man in the silence after he had called himself my 'Fairy God Doctor'. He was the opposite of the true love in my fantasies, and yet, there was something undeniably handsome about him.

I shook such thoughts from my head; they were improper. Besides, there was also something unsettling about that man, something so strange, still, I found myself trusting him.

He turned to look at me again with his odd, brown eyes that held no cruelty or malice. In fact they held a smile, a smile for me. I rarely ever had smiles and I had to force myself not to look over my shoulder to see who it was intended for.

"Now," the Doctor began."Why do you want to go to this ball anyway?" I sighed and closed my eyes a moment. The image of my imaginary love swam before my eyes. He was so beautiful.

"Because my Prince will be there." I replied in a somewhat dreamy voice, allowing my eyes to open once more to gaze at the twinkling stars above us. I looked from the sky to the Doctor, shivering slightly in the cold night air. He did not seem content with my answer. His mouth set into a small line and the smile in his eyes died.

"What does he look like?" He asked and I frown. I look down at my lap. I imagined the Prince to be everything I wanted; funny, charming, sweet. If he were not all those things; why would he be a Prince?

"I do not know." I replied honestly and he lifted a brown eyebrow. I felt ashamed, but everyone had told me that he was the most handsome man in all of the Seven Lands; why would I not take their word for it?

"Do you know his name?" I looked down at my lap once more. I was sure that I had been told the Prince's name. It was Hector, perhaps. Maybe Henry. Oh good Lord, his name did not matter in the least!

"What his name is has escaped me at this moment, Doctor." I replied curtly, stiffening. The Doctor sighed and crossed one leg over the other.

"That's what I don't get." He replied and I looked t him strangely. I began to wonder just who he was and how he got into my garden.

"What you not understand?" I asked, shifting away slightly. The Doctor seemed too distracted to notice my sudden discomfort.

"In all the faerie stories, you, don't even know the Prince when you gets to the ball!" I shifted away a bit more. I could read, but I was in no fables!

"Doctor..." I trailed off as he continued speaking.

"I mean really, what's so great about a Prince Whatshisname? Literally, you never even know his name!" I felt a harsh laugh escape my throat. The man was mad, but I was not afraid. The Doctor smiled at me as my rough giggling turned to peals of true, high laughter. Usually laughing made my chest hurt, as coughing fits usually came after, but I found that I was in no pain, it felt nice, actually.

It was a shocking realization when It dawned on me that the reason laughing hurt was because I had forgotten how to do it.

I used to laugh with my papa and mama all the time when they were both still alive. We'd go and sit by the park and feed the ducks. Sometimes they'd chase papa fr more food and my mum would have trouble with standing upright she would laugh so hard. I missed them so much as I sat in the garden with the funny man. More so than I had at any other time.

"Are you going to kill me?" I asked when I stopped laughing. I didn't know why I did, but it felt right. The Doctor sobered and looked me right in the eye for a few moments before answering.

"No." He said firmly and I believed him. I really, really did.

"It's just that my friend, Mary let a strange man into her house and she was nearly killed." I said with an urgency in my voice. The Doctor shook his head once again.

"I promise I won't hurt you." He replied and I looked to his strange box. It had an odd light coming from inside. Did he have a fire lit?

"Wait." I said after a moment, looking to him carefully and moving away a little bit. "I never let you in." The realization donned on me and I stood up from stone bench and whipped around, holding my hands out like a shield.

"Alright, just calm down." The Doctor said, but I ignored him.

"What are you?" There was a biting tone in my voice that made him flinch the tiniest bit. I didn't ask him who he was; I knew that, but I wasn't even sure that he was really a he. For all I knew, he could have been an it.

"I'm the Doctor." He replied and I shook my head.

"No. That's _who_ you are. I didn't ask _who_, I asked _what_. _What_ are you because you are not of this world." He nodded and lightly slapped the palms of his hands onto the tops of his brown-clad thighs before standing up. I gave him a threatening look, prompting him to raise his hands as if he were surrendering. It made me feel much, much calmer.

"You're a clever girl, I'm not from around here." He replied and I felt a rush of pride at the same time I felt a stab of fear.

"T-then what are you if your not from here." I said, stamping my foot on the ground. My eyes went wide. "Are you a demon?" I asked, clutching the cross that hung round my neck and the Doctor shook his head.

"No. I'm a Time Lord. I'm not a demon, they don't exist." He told me in a slow voice and I resisted the urge to snap at him for treating me like I was a stupid child.

"What's a Time Lord?" I asked in a small voice and he sighed.

"An alien." He said before pointing to the dark sky above up. "I'm from up there." Was his reply and I shook my head.

"No, your can't be an alien. Aren't they supposed to be green and scaly. Your not either of those things." The Doctor smiled brightly at me before looking down at himself.

"No, you're right, I'm not. But I'm still an alien. From Gallifrey." I was positive that this man was mad now.

"Stay back. You're half lunatic!" I said loudly and he made a noise that told me to be quiet. I didn't appreciate it, needless to say.

"Nope. Wrong again." He said before taking a step forward. I held my hands out in defense, knowing that this mad man would probably win if I tried to fight back.

"Stay away." I said, but I no longer sounded confident. "Please." It came out as a choked, frightened question. The Doctor looked to me with kind, trusting eyes, but I was still so very afraid.

"I won't hurt you, Ella." He told me with a confidence in his voice. "And I'm not mad," He paused for a beat. "Well, technically, yes, I am. But I'm still an alien." My breathing quickened as he took a step forward.

"Don't come any closer!" I shouted out. It was rushed and came as one word strung together.

"I won't. I made a promise. Now look, I'll show you." He took one of my hands gently in his, I had not the strength to fight back, and held it to his suit-clad chest. I wondered, for a moment, what he was doing until I felt the thumping of his heart.

The Doctor, who still kept his hand on mine, then moved it to an entirely different place where I felt a slower, more rhythmic beating. I gasped and jerked my hand away. He let me. I stumbled back a little bit and felt icy cold fear snake through my veins.

"You're like my step-mother. Aren't you?" I asked and the Doctor looked at me with curiosity.

"What do you mean by that, Ella?" He asked. It felt so good to be called by my real name by this man; but I'd never been more afraid in my life.

"Y-you're a monster!" The look on his face was enough to still my heart. My step-mother knew what she was; calling a monster didn't bother her. The look of shock and hurt that passed over the man's face was almost enough to convince me that he wasn't. "My step-mother is beautiful on the outside, but her ugliness begins where her skin ends. She's shown it to me many times." The Doctor again advanced slowly, but I found I was less afraid.

If this man was a monster; he didn't know it and that was comforting for some reason.

"I'm not a monster. I'm an alien. There's a difference." He said in a calm voice. "Your step-mother is a monster, but I'm not sure what kind." He said. I felt a sense of relief flood through my system as it occurred to me that this strange man with two hearts believed me. I still thought that this man was mad -in fact, he admitted it- so I was not sure about how comforting that was.

"Why are you here?" I asked him as he took a step closer to me, reaching into his pocket. I stiffened a little bit, as I was sure that he would pull out a weapon and I would die here in my garden with blood on my roses, but he did not.

Instead, he pulled out a flat, brown piece of leather, which he opened to reveal a slip of paper with writing in loopy font. I felt my neck flush red in embarrassment as the Doctor looked at me as if he wanted me to read it. I could read, but not well. My papa wasn't alive long enough to ensure that I got a good grasp of they way the written word worked.

"Could you read it to me?" I asked quietly and the Doctor lifted an eyebrow.

"You can't read." It wasn't a question, it was a statement, one that did not come out with any malice or mocking tones behind it. It was surprising.

"Not very well." I replied and he nodded. He turned the piece of paper towards him.

"It says; 'Help me please, I don't have much time left.'" He put the piece of paper back into his pocket. "I figured you'd sent it." I furrowed my brow.

"I sent no alien any pleas for help. I can't even write" I told him and he shook his head.

"You don't have to. Were you thinking about somebody coming to save you from..." He trailed off, looking around the garden and then at my clothes. "All this?" I frowned at him. While I may wear worse clothes than beggars, I still held my head high. I was a Schamp. My father's daughter, no less.

"No." I replied in a slightly stony voice. "I do not call for help. I stand and fight on my own." The Doctor seemed to believe me and he almost looked impressed.

"They really do have you all wrong, don't they?" He asked to himself under his breath. I assumed it was the mad ramblings of one half lunatic and payed his whispered words no heed. "Then who sent this?"He asked, gesturing to his pocket. I shrugged.

"I haven't the foggiest." I replied truthfully.

"Well then, I suppose I'll have to find out. You did say that your step-mum was a monster, yes?" I nodded, shuddering at the thought of her.

"She's horrible." I replied and he seemed to agree.

"Then I guess we'll just have to stop her, then." He again gestured to his pocket. "Because I'd bet anything that she's the one our mystery signal-sender is afraid of." I allowed myself to smile at the lanky man.

"I'll get the torches." I replied, turning on my heel and heading towards the house.


End file.
